Guy Next Door
by giuli miadi black
Summary: Having Greg Sanders as your neighbour can be dangerous. In a good way. GregOC. Spoilers until the season 8 finale!
1. Prologue

**A/N: **A big 'thank you' to **shy-n-great**, my wonderful beta. You were VERY helpful!

**A/N 2: **Anyone who takes a look at my profile can notice English is not my first language, so I guess it's fair to say that I dedicate this one to myself, because it's a reminder that I'm learning. Yeah, I'm _still_ learning - but who isn't? So, guys, forgive my mistakes and tell me about them - **POLITELY**.

**A/N 3:** My Greg was the most perfect geek. And grew up in Vegas. And was born in 1980. And things don't really happen when they did in the series (even though I respect the order they happened). That's why it's an AU fanfic. And, if you have any problem with that, Alt+F4, please.

* * *

**Prologue**

There are few memories from my childhood that I remember better than the ones involving the guy who used to take care of me when my parents were out. And that's because, besides being my babysitter, he was also my neighbour and we had similar schedules - he had his advanced classes and debate groups, and I had ballet and ice-skating lessons.

His name was Gregory Hojem-Sanders, but everybody called him Greg. And the main reason why he was so unforgettable - at least until I was like 13 - is how his Organic Chemistry homeworks used to fascinate the poor innocent seven-year-old girl he took care of - _me, _obviously. And, of course, the fact that he used to do my Math homework for me - which, everyone knows, is pretty important to a child.

He was also the person who made me discover, before I was eight, words that, nowadays, make my life a hell, such as _Ivy League_, SATs, colleges, and_ careers_. And it happened because, when _I_ was eight, _he_ was 18.

After managing to get in all the colleges he'd tried, Greg decided to go to Providence, Rhode Island, because he _needed_ to study at Brown, even though it was _across the country_. I had four complicated years after Greg left. I had to learn Math, had no one I could talk to while I waited for the elevator and, the worst of all things, mommy and daddy hired a new babysitter for me - of course she didn't last too long, because I grew up and she became basically useless, but it was still a bit traumatic.

Then Greg finally came back, in summer, 2002. Now I'd say he was _damn hot_, but all I could say back then is that he was _different_ from the geek I once knew. Of course he was still a little geek-ish; he had finished college and Police Academy _at the same time_, and he only came back to Vegas because he was offered a job in the crime lab, to work as a DNA analyst. I can't even think of anyone else who'd want to do such thing.

The only problem with that was the fact that his shift ended at the same hour I got up and he arrived home when I was leaving for school. But I envied him, because I've always been forced to go to bed early, and _he got paid for_ staying up the whole night.

My parents decided we shouldn't get together anymore, because we lived in two different worlds. That probably was because Greg's job involved the worst kinds of human beings, or the reason was simply the fact that, every time he could, he was took new girl to his house. But I never cared about what my parents said and, every time Greg had a break and called me to go have some coffee - the only "grown-up drink" he used to drink when he was with me - at his place, I wouldn't hesitate before saying yes. I don't know how he managed to bear it, because a 23-year-old guy certainly had cooler things to do. But he seemed to _like_ spending time with me. Being in touch with the innocence I still had and he, because of the people he met every single day, had completely lost.

Greg used those occasions to, once again, fascinate me with his life, telling me about what he did and the people he worked with. It took very little time until I knew everything about them. Catherine, a former exotic dancer who used to "wear nothing but skin" and started wearing fancy suits at her work in the lab. Warrick, the former gambling addicted who had light eyes almost genetically impossible for a black person. Nick, the nice guy who was always unlucky enough to get involved with the wrong girls. Grissom, the supervisor who, despite the fact that Greg really admired him, treated him like the most perfect lab-rat. And he spoke _too much_ about Sara, the stupid woman who had the chance to go out with him and dumped him because of _work_. She _did have_ some kind of problem; I'm pretty sure about it.

When I got into High School, he was finally authorized to work in the field. I can still remember him leaning against my doorframe, a huge smile on his face, while he told me the 'great news'. At half past six _on a Monday morning_. I'd certainly have killed him, if I weren't already up.

The most incredible part of it was that, even though he was working his ass off, he still had time to help me with school. He said he hadn't graduated as a Chemist to take pictures of crime scenes, but I knew it was a lie. But I simply couldn't learn Chemistry on my own, so I never tried to disagree with him.

My parents decided I was mature enough to deal with him - and were certain that this arrangement would be less expensive than paying a tutor -, so they allowed us to meet whenever we could, if it wasn't in school time. It was in one of these visits to his place that I had the opportunity to understand how he saw women - and to notice it wasn't very different from the way guys _who were my age_ did.

We were studying in his living room when Greg's cell phone rang. He grabbed it, told me he'd be right back and left me alone, while he went to his bedroom. I went to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. And, when I opened his cereals cupboard, I found a (small) portion of his Playboy collection. Of course I'd already seen the magazines at newsstands, but I'd never seen it somewhere I could simply pick one and read it, if I wanted. So, I chose the first of the pile and opened it on the kitchen table.

"Jenny, what are…" Greg stopped talking when he saw the picture. Blushing for the first time in his whole life, he looked away, seeming unable to stop staring at me. And I knew it was because he felt as if the image I had of him was completely destroyed. "Gimme that!" he ordered, using his 'police' tone. "I don't want people to sue me because I'm letting a minor read those things!"

I closed the magazine and, in a childish manner, pushed it away from me. Greg sat down on a chair across the table. "I always thought you had a brain," I said.

"I do," he answered, looking a little worried about what I was thinking of him. "But it doesn't mean I'm not a guy."

"Yeah. You _do not_ have a brain," I laughed sarcastically. "When the fact that I'm reading a magazine, that I decided I should read, becomes a reason to sue you, I'll do that myself. I promise!"

Greg gave me a beautiful shy smile. That was the first time I saw him as a man. And, from this moment on, I started wishing he'd see me as the gorgeous woman I was becoming. Maybe I decided to become a cheerleader in an attempt to make it happen. All I know for sure is that I was so anxious to let him know that I had passed the tests that I couldn't help knocking on his door right after I got home. And it was a _very_ good experience.

He opened the door wearing only a white bath towel. Small water drops fell on his shoulders from his hair, running down his muscles and falling on the floor. I'd call 'a dream' a lot of images that are actually less sexy than that. But Greg didn't see me in a sexy way. And it was a perfect anti-aphrodisiac.

"I..." I couldn't stop looking at his arms and abs, and speaking was beyond what I was capable of. "Can I come in?" I wondered when he'd started working out. He'd never said anything about it. He stepped back, looking a little embarrassed. I sat on the couch, trying my best to look like the perfect innocent girl who studies in a very expensive private school - and, except for the whole 'perfect-and-innocent' thing, I was quite close to that.

"I'll just get dressed and... can you wait for me here?"

He went to his bedroom. I moved a little on the couch, looking for a more comfortable position, and then I fixed my skirt's folds. I threw the backpack on the floor and checked the time on my cell phone. Half past six. It was too soon for him to get ready for work.

"Have you come straight from school?" he asked, before appearing in the corridor, still closing (from the bottom to the top) the buttons of the navy-blue shirt he'd chosen to wear that night.

"I was practicing."

"Practicing?" He opened the refrigerator, took a bottle of water and sat down next to me.

"Practicing. I joined the cheerleaders' team."

"I always thought you had a brain," he answered, in the most sarcastic tone he could manage to use.

"I do. But I don't wanna be known as the geek of the year."

"If you wanna be known as the girl who slept with the entire Lacrosse team, then congratulations, you'll get there."

"You know, Greg, _this_ is the exact way to make a poor little innocent girl think about sex. Come on, you should be happy for me! I got really excited when you began working at the field and, since then, I've been worried every single time you go to work, because I know you could be killed out there!"

"I'm happy for you. I swear. I just think that cheerleaders are too stereotyped to be anything other than a funny thing to do."

"Yeah, sure. And there are no stereotypes concerning cops?"

"I'm not the one who wears mini-skirts and tight sweaters. But, if you really wanna do that, and I know you do... I can't forbid you." He shook his shoulders, pretending he didn't care. "I guess I'll simply need to admit you're a grown up girl…"

_'Admit you're a grown up girl.'_ Greg wasn't able to do it as quickly as he should've done. But, when I finally got my driver's license and was authorized by both the law and my parents to drive around, he was forced to change his mind.

We started meeting more often in the garage, when our schedules allowed. As time passed, Greg started waiting for me, no matter how tired he was, leaning against my car, wishing he had enough time to tell me how hard his night was. "You're my way to run away from that," he used to say. And I understood him, because the things he told me were almost scary. Despite that, I truly wanted to know everything about them.

My curiosity was the reason why I started waiting for Greg as well, until it was so late that, if I didn't leave, I'd miss the first class. When he arrived before I left, he used to blame the traffic, say I was late for school and ask me to visit him when I came home. Sometimes, he also looked at me differently, and I wouldn't visit him on those afternoons, because I wasn't sure I could handle being desired by him. Even though I was almost 17, I was still _too young_.

It was in one of those meetings that I truly discovered his ability to observe things that made him a good CSI. I had taken a little extra time getting ready and, by the time I finally got downstairs, he was already almost giving up waiting for me. I smiled at him, said a happy 'good morning' and, for the first time in my life, heard an answer that started with a 'mornin', Jen' and ended with 'you look pretty today'.

"Are you dating someone?" he asked, giving me a cup of coffee. I nodded, sipping the coffee and giving him the money to pay for it.

"Thanks. How did you know?"

"Only a boyfriend could make a woman take so much time paying attention to details. He asked you yesterday, didn't he?"

"Come on! Don't be such a spoilsport! Can you let _me_ tell you _my_ good news?"

"Sure I can. It's just that it's kinda obvious. Yesterday you didn't look so perfect. I just guessed…"

"Elementary, my dear Watson. You always guess everything. At least can you tell me if I'm looking good?"

"And late. And confused. Sherlock is the one who guesses. Watson only takes the pieces Sherlock gives him and tries to play with the puzzle," he stopped talking for a second, maybe thinking that he was really a little like Dr. Watson, "But you asked me if you looked good. I've already said so. Want me to repeat it, for your ego's sake?"

I thought his total inability to be serious was amazing. A small part of me believes that this is the reason why he couldn't do anything important at work, like interrogations, or go out with that Sara girl (but a bigger part of me would bet Sara's issue involved Grissom).

Unfortunately, even the nicest people have bad karma days. And Greg was certainly in one of those days when, just because he was trying to save a man's life, some crazy teenagers beat him almost to death. At least, that's what Grissom told me when, for my complete shock, he called me at 6am that day. Because _Greg himself_ asked him to.

"Visitor hours are from three to five," Grissom informed me.

"Is this the only option?"

"Yeah, he told me something about you refusing to skip the cheerleader practicing. If you want to know the opinion of an old man who knows nothing about feelings-" it sounded almost ironic, in a way that didn't fit in with the 'Grissom' Greg had told me about "-it will be worthwhile to waste time taking care of someone you like."

"Grissom, can I ask you something?"

"Will I need a lawyer?" I could almost see his eyebrows raising the way Greg said they did every time he made jokes about his own job.

"No, you won't. I just wanted to know... it's just curiosity... uh... you and Sara... what's going on between you guys?"

"We have nothing going on," he answered in a defensive tone. There was no better way to admit he was lying.

"I won't tell your boss, you know? The most I can do is to tell Greg, but he's a smart guy who will end up finding out anyway."

"We have nothing going on," he repeated more firmly. "That's all you will hear from us. You're quite smart yourself, I know that. Put the evidence together. Any other questions?"

"Nope," I answered, smiling, "None." I hung up and got dressed, more carefully than the usual. I looked to the spot where Greg's silver Toyota wasn't parked. Feeling a little weird, I got in my car and drove to school. During the classes, all I could do was stare at the clock, watching as the seconds passed, wishing time would run faster so I could get to the hospital sooner. Grissom was right; we must take care of the people we like. And Greg had never hesitated in taking care of me, even when he didn't get paid for that. And I... well, I wouldn't get paid either. But it doesn't mean I had nothing to win.

When I got to the room where the nurse had told me Greg was, he was asleep. I took a chair, sat at the side of the bed and, carefully, caressed his hair. He opened his hazel eyes slowly.

"You came," he whispered.

"Why wouldn't I? You need a babysitter!" He looked at me, his expression revealing a deep wish of touching me, but he didn't dare to move. There was nothing in his body, not even a tiny part, that wasn't hurt. "How are you?"

"Desperate," he moaned, "I need morphine." 

"Grissom called me."

"I know. I asked him to tell you. Didn't want you to miss school. He's a nice guy, isn't he?"

"I didn't speak to him that much. It seems you did a really good job expressing your concern about my class, because he hung up quickly. I only had time to ask him a question I've wanted to do for ages."

"And what question is that?"

"He and Sara are together, Greg," I said, solemnly. His eyes lost a little of their glow. "That's what I asked. And I will change my name to Ginevra if I misunderstood his answer." He forced himself to smile. "But it's very likely that I'll be able to keep my current name. I can tell you, she doesn't care about your feelings for her. If I was Sara, I'd have told you when things started." If I was Sara, things wih Grissom would _never_ have started. But I couldn't say it to him.

"Jenny... how can you be so sure?"

"I put the evidence together, as Grissom told me to do," I smirked. "What's so special about her?"

"She's sort of my mentor. I guess you know what it means. Mentors tend to fascinate their pupils in a weird way, don't they?" He looked at me, moaning in pain, as he moved on the bed. "She's _nine_ years older than me. Graduated in Harvard. Besides everything, she's a fucking genius!"

"And her boyfriend is a 50-year-old guy! You're _27_. Can you see the difference here? He collects bugs, you collect Playboys. Want me to keep listing reasons why a workaholic geek like her wouldn't give a chance to the cool guy who loves a dominatrix?"

"I do not 'love a dominatrix'," he replied, angrily. I smirked again. If it was the only thing he disagreed with, he simply didn't wanna admit I was right. "I _like_ her, Jenny."

"Maybe you should move on, Greg. Focus on someone who'd be able to cope with your lifestyle."

"Someone like you, maybe? You know, I'm pretty sure you're as good as a choice as she is." I didn't say a word. I hated being underestimated. Especially by him. "I'd like to ask you a favour-" another pause. He took a deep breath and proceeded, "On the table... take my keys and my wallet. Drive my Toyota home, please. It's at the PD's garage. Take a cab with the money and keep the change." I did what he asked me to do, before returning the chair to the place it was when I arrived.

"I'll let you rest. Get better soon, ok?" I walked to the exit. I had already left the room and was closing the door when he called my name.

"You look beautiful today."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

I parked my car at the garage and checked the hours. Greg would arrive in about 15 minutes, if he wasn't working overtime _again_. I left the car and lit a cigarette. The last cigarette of the pack I had bought that night. I had already smoked half of it when he drove through the gate and parked in his space, on the left side of mine.

"Gimme that," Greg said. I hadn't realized, until that moment, how sexy he looked when he used that bossy tone. I inhaled a little more smoke and gave him the rest. He threw the cigarette on the floor. "I never thought I'd need to argue with _you_ about smoking."

"That's because you don't need to argue with me. And I don't smoke usually, Greg, you know that."

"Where have you been?" His eyes were, at the same time, censoring my mini-skirt and enjoying what could be seen of my legs.

"A friend's birthday. Celebrating my recovered freedom. Kissing an amazing guy. Anticipating the summer break and the end of school. Happy with that, _cop_, or you wanna search for another kind of drug?"

"Why? Do you have other drugs?" I shook my head. "You know I trust you. All I want is a 12-hour sleep." We got in the lift. While I took my shoes off, I asked, "Are you on a break today?"

"After a week in hell. Are your parents still out of town?" I nodded. "When are they coming back?"

"In fifteen days. Why?"

"Could you pass by tonight? Maybe... After eight?"

I unlocked my door. "Sure. See you tonight."

.x.

"What's the big deal?"

"Are you really asking just because I decided to cook my own dinner instead of eating frozen food? I needed to eat something decent to celebrate my first vacations in two years. Have you already had dinner?" I nodded. "Look, can you wait for me in the living room while I eat? You can watch TV, if you want."

I lay down in the couch and turned the TV on. While Greg ate, I watched Friends. "What do you want with me?" I asked, as soon as he turned the water off. "You never asked me to stop by without a reason."

He came back to the living room and stared at me. "Don't you think you're using too much space for such a little girl? Can I sit here?"

I sat on the couch, looking a little unhappy about it. He sat next to me and I put my legs on his, laughing at his face. "So, what's wrong with you?"

"CSIs never believe things they can't prove, Jenny. And I know it's been a very long time, but I still wanna ask you to forgive me because I didn't believe you when you told me about Grissom and Sara. That day at the hospital, I thought you made that up just because you were unexplainably in love with me. But she confirmed. She told me she's with him and it won't change any time soon."

"You asked me to come here only because you wanted to apologize?"

"And to tell you how terrible I feel because I doubted at you."

"Have I ever given you a reason not to doubt?"

He gave me a smile, looking a little better now. But I knew he wasn't alright. "It's her loss, in my opinion. No way would a reasonable girl dump you because of an old man."

"It isn't helpful at all. I've always wanted a chance with her. You know that. Now...- What was that about the whole 'freedom' thing?"

"I broke up with Jay. We spent over a year dating. It was starting to get boring."

"'Boring'? No one has ever used 'boring' when they're talking about me."

"Have you ever spent more than two months with someone?"

"Six! With someone in college, which means almost a year in the 'real world.' And neither of us experienced boredom. You're starting college in the fall, right?

"UNLV, I hope. Living at the East Coast isn't worth it. Neither are the Ivy League schools."

"Brown was a memorable experience."

"Yeah, right. They brainwashed you and you came back like this."

"Like what? Responsible? Working?"

"Silly. Pervert. Cool. You weren't like this."

"It's called _growing up_. Backwards!" We laughed. "What are your plans for your birthday? It's next weekend, isn't it?"

"I dunno. I've never made plans for my 18th birthday, only for my 21st. I mean... what's the big deal of turning 18?"

"Legally, you are allowed to do almost everything you want."

"What did you do during the week?" I changed the subject. I wasn't in the mood to discuss laws with him. "You only get breaks when you work 24/7!"

"A few cops shot some perps. Some perps shot a few cops. In other words, they made our lives a complete chaos. A million items of evidence, another bunch of lies...I spent the week drinking coffee and eating bread and butter, and coming home only to take a shower and change my clothes."

"I bet you're quite happy you don't have a girlfriend."

"Indeed," he smirked. "And I feel exactly the same way every time I need to work with models or strippers." He bit his lower lip, as if he was thinking of the best strippers and models he'd met at work. "I can't imagine how I'd tolerate a girlfriend at the moment."

"Not all girlfriends are annoying," I replied with simplicity. "At least, I wasn't."

"Did you have any reason to be?"

"Everybody does. Even you!" He smiled. "What are you gonna do now?"

"No idea. I'm too tired to go out." He seemed to be analyzing me. "Wanna watch a movie or anything?"

"What kinda movie?"

"Why don't you choose? I hate romantic comedies, but..."

"When I was younger, I forced you to watch movies that I watch now and think 'oh, gosh, it is _so_ childish'." This is your chance to get revenge."

He stared at me, in a thoughtful silence. "Can I go to my room for a second?"

"Sure!" I put my legs on the floor. "What did you choose?"

"A movie that was definitely not made for little girls. A detective one, maybe. You know, it _is_ an obsession." Greg went to his bedroom. I could hear him swearing at something he'd kicked before turning on the lights. A few doors were slammed and he came back. "Zodiac." He put the disk in the DVD player. "Have you watched it?"

"Only heard of it. It's about a serial killer, isn't it?" He nodded. "You must love your job."

"If there's no passion, it's not funny." He sat next to me again. "Someday you'll get it." I leant my head against his shoulder, the way I was used to doing with my boyfriend. He pressed play and hugged me, putting his hand around my waist. "You won't fall asleep, will you?"

"Nope," I said, after the first shot. "It'd be impossible." He didn't answer, but I knew he was smiling.

Sometimes Greg said something about the movie, telling me which things were too 'Hollywood' and what evidence would be more important if it was in the present. It was always whispered, as if we were at the theatre or something like that. As if he wanted to tease me just a little more...

I was really impressed by his ability of not moving, not even an inch, during the two and a half hours the movie lasted. The only reason he would move were to talk to me and, in an impulse that lasted not long enough, caress me. I knew he censored that impulse. But I didn't want it to stop.

"Could you solve this case?" I asked, as soon as the movie ended, putting my legs back on his.

"Not alone. It's too full of details. I couldn't say something _that_ vain." According to his watch, it was _way_ later than eleven. He seemed to notice it as well, because he suddenly said, "Time to go to bed, young lady."

"What do you know about it, anyway? By now, you'd probably be listening to Grissom's explaining of the new case. _And_ I slept the whole afternoon today."

"Really?" he smirked. "Are you already starting to turn the days upside down? That's great, if you wanna work in the night shifts of life."

"I do."

"What are you gonna do? At college?"

"Criminal Justice. I wanna be a DA."

"And depend on me to pay your bills? Really good choice. But there are very few DAs that work the night shift."

"Maybe I'll try the Academy and start working _with_ you. I'd be your pupil."

"It'd be an honor to be your mentor. Especially because I need to be really good at what I do before Grissom says it's ok."

"Would you really do it?"

"Course! Who else could be my victim when I decide to laugh at someone's face? Besides, I could..." he stopped talking, trying to avoid saying what he thought.

"Be my Sara," I completed. "Please, don't fall in love with Cath."

"No, I won't. I think we can change things a bit."

"Really?" I put my legs on the floor and got closer to him. "How?"

He sighed, gave me a lustful smile and got even closer. "We'll need to find out." And then he kissed me.

I could use an old cliché and say it was a totally amazing kiss that made me feel butterflies in my stomach and that every single second seemed infinite and too short at the same time. But it wasn't. It was a first kiss as many others I'd had before. With the whole 'finding the perfect way' thing. And, well, a little clumsier, because I was with Greg. And _delicious_, because it tasted like a prize I'd been looking for my entire life.

Slowly, reluctantly, we moved away from each other. His eyes were glowing, in a mix of pleasure and regret. "You should go home, Jen," Greg said, with a little effort. "Now." He got up and walked to the kitchen and came back with a beer bottle. "Please." He took a long swig and sat on the arm of the couch, leaning his head against the wall. He closed his eyes.

"You don't regret it, do you?"

"Jenny, _please. _Don't ask me hard things. I don't know if I regret it or...maybe I'm just confused about it. I never thought I could really desire the little girl I saw growing up." He stared at me, looking a little more serious than usual. "Can you please leave me alone, Jen?" I got up, feeling like I could start crying at any moment. He swore and came to where I was. "I'm _so_ stupid," he held me in his arms, "Sorry, Jenny, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's ok-" I pushed him away from me and opened the door "-I'll leave you alone." I left the apartment and tried to open my door, but my hands were shaking. When I finally managed to unlock the door, he called me.

"I just want you to know...I'd do it again. I wanted to. And I liked doing it. Sleep tight, sweetheart." And he closed the door.

_Sweetheart_, not Jenny. I'd never heard him call another girl 'sweetheart'. And it made me realize he didn't see me the way he saw other girls - and it was good.

.x.

I woke up the next morning with guitar solos echoing in my apartment. It was obvious _Greg_ was responsible for all that noise.

"Good morning, Jenny!" he yelled as soon as he answered the phone.

"Turn. It. Off!"

"What? The radio? Nope. I like this song."

"How can you listen to all that noise so early in the morning?"

"It's noon, Jenny. I've been _listening to all that noise_ for four hours, you grumpy little girl. Hangover?"

"Smaller phrases, Greg," I muttered. "And I'm not hung-over. I just woke up."

"I'd suggest you take a good shower, get dressed and drink some coffee and aspirins. It could solve your problem..."

"Shut up!"

"You're really sweet today. Wanna have lunch with me?"

"In two hours work for you?" He said it did. I hung up and snuck out of the bed, still swearing at his mistreating my ears with that terribly loud song. Still deciding whether I'd have lunch with him or not, I took a shower, wishing I could wash my sleep away and actually wake up. Meanwhile, I thought about what had kept me awake the night before; the way he got confused after kissing me, and how this confusion only made me like him even more.

Of course I was a little hurt. I'd never imagine he would be the first to make a move and then send me home the way he did. But I had this feeling that this lunch was his way to try and fix things. The way 'you know I'm very well-paid and polite enough' to apologize. And, for a tiny second, I wondered what he'd do if I'd slept with him.

I turned the water off, came back to my room, chose some random clothes and got dressed, not really worried about looking pretty. Simply have lunch at his place wasn't worthy that much effort.

.x.

"Is it edible?" Greg asked, analyzing me in an annoying way. I nodded. "I know I'm not the best cook ever."

"It's good enough. You're far better than me, if it makes you feel better."

"How was your night?"

"Great," I lied, sipping my Coke. "And yours?"

"I almost couldn't sleep. And my weird schedules had nothing to do with it." He took a sip of his red wine. "I kept thinking of you the whole night. And that's weird, 'cause it's never happened before."

"Did it help you to find out what's the matter with you?"

"Jenny...you don't know how hard it is to see the adult you. I can still remember the annoying kid you were. And, ten years later, I was kissing the same annoying kid on my couch! But, now, she's not a kid anymore. Nor annoying. You're _beautiful_, Jenny. A wonderful woman. But I can't help remembering that cute little girl that couldn't even say my name! You know, this is the difference between you and Sara; I didn't watch her grow up." He sighed, drinking a little more wine and looking at me. "On the other hand, I can't help noticing you're like...becoming the perfect woman. You're smart, you fight for what you want, and, oh, gosh, you're _so_ sexy that sometimes I just...lose my mind. And it's all so natural how you are, nothing is forced. You're fantastic, Jenny. Period."

"Why don't you simply enjoy it?" I asked, trying my best not to let him notice my anxiety.

"I don't wanna hurt you. Physically speaking. And I know it's gonna happen, because that's the way I do things."

"Oh, you're trying to tell me that Mr. I'm-a-cop-and-I'd-never-hurt-a-fly likes it when things get violent, huh?"

"Does it explain to you why I hate any type of dominatrix?"

"Yeah," I laughed. "And several other things. But I'm not a delicate doll, Greg. I'm a girl. There's no need to worry. I'm used to it."

"_Used to it_?" He gave a sly smile. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Wanna check for yourself?" I asked, challenging him. He bit his lower lip, seeming a little undecided.

"I'd love to. Right now. But I prefer doing things a little slower with you." I started staring at my food. I could feel him gazing me, but I couldn't look back. "Will I ever be able to say the right thing?" He seemed angry. And I was a little scared of it.

"I don't think so," I answered, looking deep inside his eyes. "At least not while you're still worried about _what_ you're saying."

"You're definitely not the girl I've always thought you were." His finger caressed my jaw, while he thought, clearly tired of looking for the right things to say. "Jen, I want you to give me a break. A few days not mentioning it, not making me imagine you're just waiting for me to push you against a wall. I need some time to let Sara go and treat you like you deserve. And, most of all, I need to think I'm the one in control. But, as soon as I get ready, I'll make you forget the word 'boredom' exists."

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely."

.x.

Two long final exams days came after that promise. On the second, Greg knocked on my door shortly after I arrived from school and asked me if I was alone. I barely had time to say yes before he kissed me, pushing me inside the apartment, closing the door and lying me on the couch. Almost all at the same time.

"Greg, are you out of your mind?" I pushed him away from me. He smirked.

"I knew you wouldn't." He sat on the couch and helped me do the same.

"No regrets now?"

"Nope. It's all good." He pressed his tongue against his canine, in an almost childish way. "I heard your Chemistry final is in two days. Is it true?"

"Is that why you came over here?"

"Yeah. But you are so pretty and that would be such a perfect chance to surprise you that...I couldn't resist, sorry."

"Just...go slow, ok?"

"Oh, now _you're_ the one asking it?"

"When would I imagine you were gonna simply throw me on my couch?"

"And _you got_ to the point. That's why I did it. And the exam?"

"It's the last final. Before lunch, the day after tomorrow. And I have _no idea_ how I'm gonna study so many things in so little time."

"The whole year?" I nodded. "I think I can help you. I'll need to go to the lab tomorrow to do my super-organized supervisor's evaluation. Meet me there after the class. Studying is funnier when you practice."

.x.

"Greg Sanders?" the receptionist confirmed. "Just a moment."

She typed something at the computer. After finding the data she was looking for, she picked up the phone and dialed a number, putting it on the speaker. "DNA Analysis Lab," a bored voice answered.

"Is Greg Sanders there?"

"Just a second." Her voice was replaced by the absolute silence that meant the call was on hold.

"Greg Sanders."

"Miss..." she grabbed my driver's license, as if she wasn't able to remember my name, "Jennifer Carter is here."

"Let her come up, Lane. I'll be at Trace."

She hung up and gave me a Visitor's pass. "Right index in the sensor, please. Security policy, you know how it works." I did what she asked. "Follow the corridor. You'll find a door where it's written CSU. He's at the Trace Lab. You won't get lost-" she took a deep breath "-the ID stays here."

I passed through the metal detector and followed the long corridor until I found the door she'd mentioned. I entered the lift and pressed the only button I could find. The lift started going up, slowly. The doors opened, letting me walk through a new corridor that reminded me of the mall's ones, with glass walls that made it possible, to everyone who came by, to watch what happened inside each one of those small labs.

I saw the room where they kept the evidence of the cases they were working on, the audiovisual analysis department, the Ballistic section, the DNA lab and finally arrived at the Trace lab, where Greg was looking at something in the microscope, while an impatient guy watched him.

"That's money," Greg said, looking at the guy. "A piece of dollar. Are you okay, Jenny?" I nodded. "Wanna take a look? We don't bite, you know?" He looked at the other, considering what he'd just said. "Not at work, anyway."

"I can't do it, can I?"

"We won't tell anyone." I smiled and came closer. I looked at what he was showing me. "Do you see the greenish-blue line? It was put here to avoid copies, but it ended up helping us more than they could even dream of." I stepped back and looked at him, wondering who the other guy was. As usual, he seemed to notice it, because he hit his own forehead. "Jenny, this is Nick. Nick, Jenny."

"_This_ is Jenny?" Nick stared at me, truly interested. I realized that changing my school uniform for something less sexy had been a good idea. "I'm very happy to meet you, Jenny. Everyone here knows everything about your life."

"And I know everything about everyone's lives here. Hard case, Nicky?"

For a second, Nick seemed to want to kill me, but he took a really deep breath, maybe wondering how the odds could change if he hit me before asking me out. "I thought it'd be better if I doubled the shift and finished the case instead of leaving it open for another day. Especially as the media have been pissing me off because it's taking too long. And you? What are you doing here?"

"We'll study Chemistry in a fun way," Greg answered. "To make things different and to remind me the reason why I traveled across the country and spent _four years_ studying it instead of attending Med School as mummy wanted me to."

"And you can't stay away from the lab. I swear, dude, if you keep doing it I'll start thinking you're becoming Sara." Greg and I looked at each other and started laughing. Nick looked a little embarrassed. "I have work to do. Have fun!"

Nick left the lab and closed the door. Greg took me to the shelves and gave me a list. "I took a look at your book today. Help me find everything and take it to the night shift table." He pointed to the table he had just been at.

When we finished taking everything to the table, he started showing the reactions, mixing the colourful liquids in the test tubes. I knew that, in fact, he'd chosen to take me there because the lab was a place I've always wanted to see and he thought that my exam was a good reason to please me that much, and because he wanted show me to his workmates - and ask for their approval. But it was funny to watch two liquids becoming a solid or see how easily everything turned pink by simply adding Phenolphthalein - or, even better, looking at a crystal in the microscope and discovering the crystal wasn't exactly a crystal. And he seemed to be having so much fun with the explanations, that were whispered, 'because we don't wanna disturb this shift's analyst, do we?'.

"Give me the pen?" He asked, calling my attention. I stopped staring at the positive-to-basic-solution-fuchsia liquid and read what he wrote, in a tiny letter, in my notebook. _'I think I'm getting crazy'_.

I laughed, picking the pen he'd left rolling on the table. _'Why?'_

_'Oh, God, I want you'_.

I looked at him, surprised. That was serious. _Really_ serious.

"Not now." I whispered. "Everybody will see us". He shook his shoulders, telling me he didn't care. But I knew he would regret if he did it. "How does it work again?" I asked, picking the tube and putting it between us.

"Milk of Magnesia and Phenolphthalein." He answered, patiently. "Now, a few drops of it…" He showed me a glass containing a colourless liquid labeled as Hydrochloric Acid. "And… you neutralize the solution." The pink liquid became colourless again. "Magnesium Chloride and water. Doubts?"

.x.

"Is it okay if we stay here until... half past ten?" He asked me, taking me by his hand o the break room. "They will kill me if they find out only Nick met you."

"Half past ten?" I looked at his watch. It wasn't even nine. "What are we gonna do until then?"

He sat on the couch, making me sit on his lap.

"Make out on the break room's couch." He answered, his lips brushing against my ear in an extremely sexy way.

"Greg!" I tried to protest, but he kissed me before I could say anything else. "You _work here_!" I pushed him and sat on the couch. "People who know you pass by every five seconds. People who'd make you life a hell if they _dreamt_ of anything between us!"

"You know, Jenny, I meant what I said."

"I know you did. And I want you just as much as you do. But I won't do it wearing too many clothes in a room in which everyone could enter. I want it to be perfect. And it takes time to be perfect."

He got up, opened the refrigerator, wrote something in a paper and came back, bringing two bottles of water.

"I respect you for that." He said, giving me one of the bottles. He drank some of his water and put his feet on the table. "What the hell are we gonna do now?"

"What do you do when you have nothing to do?"

"The last time I had a calm night was when I was still a lab-rat. And those moments were the reason why I kept my Playboys in the cabinets."

A blonde woman that I hadn't seen yet came in the room. I already knew who she was, even before Greg could say, "Hi, Cath".

"I thought you were off for two more days."

"I missed you, my darling." He smiled, sarcastically. "You know, I can't live if I don't see you once a week." He stopped, enjoying the effect his words had done on her expression. "Cath, this is Jenny."

"I'm happy to meet you, Jenny." She shook my hand motherly. "Greg, can we talk in private?"

He looked at me, wondering if I would be fine if he left me alone. He got up and left the room with her. I could see, through the window, that she was arguing with him. And I knew I was the subject of the 'talking'.

"She saw." He whispered, when he came back and sat next to me, looking a little angry. I rested my head on his shoulder, letting me carress me.

Cath came back and sat on a chair. She opened a folder and searched for a pen in her purse.

"I'm not saying it can't happen. You just must be discrete, Greg."

"And you're _not_ discrete." I completed, making him give me a smile. She looked at us.

"So, we agree about it? That's good. I need to finish Grissom's evaluation. As soon as I finish it, I'll give you all the attention you want?"

Greg held my hand, scratching his skin with my nails.

"You like it, don't you?"

"At the right times, I do."

He suddenly got away from me. A second later, the door opened and, judging by his smile - that disappeared before anyone else could even notice it - and by everything I'd already heard, Grissom and Sara got in the room.

"Jenny, right?" He asked, looking at me. I nodded. "Welcome. I'm Grissom."

"I thought you were." I looked at the brunette. "Sara?" She nodded. "Greg talks a lot about you."

"I bet he talks about you more than about me."

"I thought you would use the Trace lab, Greg." Grissom said, filling a mug with coffee.

"We're done. I wanted to introduce her, because we were already here. But we're leaving. Just waiting for Warrick."

"You can stay as much as you want. But she can't hear anything about any case. You know that." Greg nodded. "Sara, I'm wating for you in my office."

"I'm coming, Grissom." Greg and I avoided looking at each other, 'cause we knew we would start laughing. Sara seemed to notice it, and she came closer to us. "Not a single word about this subject in front of the others", she whispered. "Please".

"You're not the only one with secrets, Sara." He answered, holding me in his arms. "He's waiting for you."

She said something to Cath and left the room.

"It's time to learn how to keep your secrets." The blonde woman said. "Just an advise."

"While Grissom doesn't notice, it's well kept." He smirked.

"Grissom has some serious problems when he needs to notice obvious things. If you don't take too long to finish the Academy, you'll have the chance to yell at him for it.", Cath explained to me, smiling.

"Greg said I wanted to work here?"

"I asked him what you wanted to do. And, if you want the oppinion of someone _adult enough to give advices_, I think you should try." I opened a proud smile. I was impossible not to think that she must have heard a lot of things about me before saying something like that. And, if she heard a lot, _he_ said a lot.

"And your daughter, Cath? Any plans?"

"She knows what she _doesn't_ want. Lindsey is unable to make decisions if there's no pressure."

"It's usual. You know how are the children nowadays." Greg said, using an experienced-parent tone that almost made me laugh. "They all think they know what they want but, when they get it, they change their minds five minutes later."

"It's interesting to hear you saying that. There are things I've been trying to do for more than two years."

"Like sleeping with the whole Lacrosse team?" I shook my head, thinking he'd never understand me.

"Greg, do you have a problem with it?" Cath asked. "Because, as far as I know, she can sleep with them all _at once_ and no one has nothing to do with it. It's not a _good _thing to do though, Jenny." She looked at me briefly, before looking back at him. "She's _18_. She's older than the consent. To me, it looks like a jealous eighteen-year-old boyfriend who's too geek to join any team that actually plays sports, and not only _chess_."

"Hey, wait a minute…-" I said, sarcastically. "I know you're _28_ and you're not my boyfriend, but… I guess she _is_ talking about you"

"The ten-years-ago me, maybe. I've learnt a new favourite sport. A more _physical_ one." Cath and I laughed. She closed the folder and asked me if I remembered 'the other Greg'.

"A few things. He allowed me to do things my parents wouldn't let when he took care of me… and things were all perfect and scientific when he did them…-" I looked at him. "And I remember especially the way he yelled at me when I broke his Science Fair project and forbid me to get in his bedroom again".

"How old were you?" She asked, seeming very interested. "Five", I answered. "Greg! Poor girl!"

"Oh, come on! Have you ever seen a Nobel Prize winner saying 'it all started when my DNA Replication model was destroyed by my five-year-old neighbour'? I got a D for it, Cath. D! do you have any idea of what is it?" He was starting to get angry, as if he was living it all over again.

"And you never got in his room again?" cath asked, looking at us in a way that made it very clear what she was thinking of. "_Never_. He spent a long time avoiding taking me to his place…-" I made a dramatic pause. "He's a mean guy, Cath. _Very_ mean."

"You like it, Jenny", he whispered teasingly. "Stop complaining."

"I was _five_!" I answered, angry. Cath laughed. Before I could finish my speech, the door was opened _again_ and Warrick came in.

"Our gossip service works perfectly. Hi, Jenny." He smiled, shaking my hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. And you?"

"Who told you she was here?" Greg asked, seeming a little jealous. "Nick. I met him when I left the lift. And Sara told me you were waiting for me. And I started thinking I was the most important guy in the lab."

"I know you guys. You'd kill me if Nick told you he'd met Jenny"

"Nick is literally drooling out there. I obviously would wanna know who did it to him. Cath, we've got a new case. Are you coming?"

She put her things together and kindly looked at us. "I gotta go, children. Take care, ok?", she said, before leaving the room, followed by Warrick.

I looked at Greg, smiling, and said, "He's in love with her. Mark my words."

"Yeah, sure. 'In love' like you and me or like me and Sara?"

"Madly like Sara and Grissom", I answered, angry. He gave me a smile and kissed my lips.

"Oh, but it's hard to get to this point...", he said. "They don't have this sexual tension we have or you had with James."

"You saw us together _once_!"

"That was enough." He paused, before getting back to what he'd been saying before I interrupted him. "And Grissom and Sara... Well, I'd bet she's not the kind of girl who _likes_ it."

I smiled, looking him deep inside his hazel eyes. "Do you _swear_ you prefer a woman who 'is not the kind of girl who _likes_ it' to someone who slept with the Lacrosse team captain?" He shook his head, seeming unable to think of another answer. "Let's go home, please?"

"You slept with the Lacrosse team captain?" He asked.

"Jay was the captain", I answered, forcing him to come with me. "I finished the year as the chief cheerleader... we were the royalty at Roosevelt High."

"And you broke up weeks before the prom. God, you're smart".

"C'est la vie, mon cher"

"Who else? Of the team?"

"One of the middies..." I blushed a little. "Right after summer last year."

"_Middie_?" He seemed confused. In a cute way. "What is it?"

"It's a position." I lifted an eyebrow, making it sound as I thought he was really stupid for not knowing what it was. "Midfielders. Want me to explain the rules?"

"No, thanks. Was it _before_ James?" I nodded. "And I was thinking you were an angel..."

"I drunk a little more than I should. It simply seemed... right."

"I know what you mean." We got in the lift. "Would you give me a ride, Jenny?"

"Didn't you bring your car?"

"The Toyota is in maintenance. The air-conditioner is not working."

We stopped at the reception. It wasn't Lane who was there. I gave the pass to the receptionist, who typed some numbers in the computer and found my driver's license in a little plastic box. "Right index in the sensor". The blue light flashed and she gave me my ID. Laughing, Greg passed his pass in a small machine and, together, we passed through the metal detector.

"Visitors... always messing around with the natural order of things..."

"Like they do when Nick stops calling Sara 'sun'?"

"You know, _this_ visitor does the same with me. But she can't know that."

"Why not?" I opened the door of my car. We got in. "Because she's too young and I know she'll get vain if she hears something like that." He smiled and kissed me voluptuously, like he'd spent the whole day avoiding doing. "And I don't wanna spoil her charm. You know, I love her being humble..."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I was sitting on a bench in a square near the courthouse, reading a book, waiting for Greg, anxious because I needed to tell him what my grade was on the only test he really cared about. I hadn't seen him since four days earlier.

"Jen?" I heard his voice and raised my eyes from the book. He sat next to me. "What are you doing here?"

"I study _two blocks away from here_. I thought maybe I should stop by and ask you how the trial was and tell you I got an A in Chemistry."

"Congratulations, sweetheart!"

"I had nothing to do with it. You're the one who deserves the credit." He looked away from me, embarassed. He always hated it when I gave him the credit for something the thought he had nothing to do with.

"How was your birthday?" He asked, in an obvious attempt of changing the subject.

"It was... normal. You should have been there."

"I should have, but I'm a cop. I can't sit back and watch you and your underage friends drinking. You know that."

"It's okay," I said, a little sad. "I missed you, that's all."

He loosened the tie knot, seeming truly annoyed with it. "What are you reading?"

I closed the book, so he could read the title. "_Lolita_. Excellent choice. It's a shame it has nothing to do with us," he laughed.

"It's the best part. To feel _normal _about _us_."

"If you were 12 and I was 40, this book would be a reference. But, you're not a baby anymore."

"Did you notice _they_ have a better sex life than we do?"

"What do you know about _my_ life? Besides, two days ago you were a baby too. It reminds me... Is school over?"

"There is a game tomorrow. League's finals. And, the prom is in two weeks. But, after Wednesday, I'll not have to think about school for two whole months. Oh, gosh, I'll get _desperately_ fat on vacation!"

"Or not." He smirked. "Did you bring your car?"

"Nope. My friend gave me a ride to school and I came here on foot. I knew I'd find you here."

"How?"

"I called you to ask you for a ride home and nobody answered, neither at home nor on the cell phone. So, I called the police station and Cath told me you were testifying here."

"Did they tell you the colour of my PJ's?"

"I didn't ask, but I bet I could find out, if I wanted to."

"We need girls like you at the lab. Let's go home?"

"Okay." We walked to the car. During the whole drive home, we talked about my plans for the prom; who I'd go with (one of the Attack men who'd always asked me for a date), what I would wear (a dark red halter dress), what time the party ended (around 6am), where I would sleep (home, maybe. It would depend on the things that happened during the night)... He seemed very interested on those details, almost like he was jealous. I can't lie, I liked it.

He parked the car and we got in the empty elevator, leaning against opposite walls. But, when the doors closed and we looked at each other, it became impossible to resist the temptation of starting, in the small distance to the 5th floor, what we knew we would end in one of the apartments.

The door opened and Greg picked the keys in his pocket. He looked at me, maybe wondering if I would kill him if he asked what he wanted. After a small silence, filled by the keys noise, he asked, "Wanna come in?"

I nodded. We entered the apartment and he closed the door before kissing me again, while leading me to his room. I smiled when he closed the door, maybe out of the habit, and turned the lights on, saying exactly what I was thinking: "I guess it's time to cancel that old prohibition, right?"

I nodded slowly, sitting on the dark blue sheets that covered his tall bed. He sat next to me, seeming a little guilty when he looked at my face, but kissed me again, laying me on the bed.

We took our clothes off, in a teasingly slow way that only contributed to making us more and more desperate to skip that part and go straight to what mattered. However, he seemed to want me to think that the two years of waiting were worthy.

His tongue ran along my body, almost driving me crazy, while his hands touched me firmly and resolutely. He seemed to know exactly where and how to touch me in every single moment, making desire fill me.

Greg laughed when he felt my body shake involuntarily under him, getting away from me, his eyes asking me to forgive him for that, justifying his attitude with the most sarcastic words he's ever said to me: "It's not that you don't deserve it. It's just too soon."

He sat on the bed, next to me, and opened a drawer of the side table. I watched him as he picked the small square pack of a condom and threw it on my belly. "I guess you know what to do."

I nodded, grabbing it and sitting on his lap, and then I kissed him. Yes, I knew what to do. But it didn't mean I was used to doing. So, I had a little trouble in opening the pack and pulling the condom out of it while kissing Greg's lips. But it wasn't impossible, and I knew that because, in the end, I did it, and only stopped when I heard him moan low. Greg seemed to like my inexperience just as much as I liked his experience, and it made everything feel even more wonderful.

Still looking in his eyes, I slowly lowered my body, feeling him inside of me the way I'd spent two years fantasizing. I moaned low, making him give me a smile. I got up again, still slowly, and hesitated for one second, before repeating the move.

I did it once or twice before he held me by my waist, keeping me from moving. "Can we actually start now?" He asked, throwing me on the bed.

I lifted an eyebrow, laughing, and answered, "Please".

Greg thrusted violently, forcing himself inside of me and a moan of pain that escaped from my lips made him smile in delight. The sadistic delight he'd been saying he loved to feel, and that I really _wanted_ him to feel. "I love it when you beg," he whispered.

I let him enjoy that situation a little more. I'd always preferred doing things that way, because I liked being the submissive one. But, during the last year, I had learned to do things the other way and, by instinct, I tried to change positions, and that was when he fell heavily on the floor and yelled my name angrily.

I could see the whole DNA model scene running through my eyes when I looked over at his face. His expression was exactly the same, and I had to control myself a lot to avoid laughing.

"Come here _now_, Jennifer." He ordered me, still not moving. Calmly, I went where he was and lied down on his body. "_No way_, Jenny." He switched places again, making my arm hit the closet, and thrust even harder.

Our bodies fitted perfectly. Never, in my whole life, had I felt like I was truly completed by someone as I felt with him; it seemed that Greg knew exactly what I wanted, even though he'd never done it with me before. It didn't matter how much each one of his rough moves hurt me either, because of his strength or because of the thick carpet against which he pushed me. It was simply _good_. And it wouldn't be that good if it wasn't that way.

My nails slid on his sweaty back every time I tried to scratch him, in an attempt to make him feel part of the pain I felt. Not that I really cared about it. I knew he would stop if I asked, no matter when I did. But I didn't want him to stop.

He moaned and his body tightened. We looked at each other for a second, before I embraced him. He kept the thrusts, determined, abusing of his self-control to avoid coming before I did. I shook again, feeling that intense and divine pleasure take control of my body, and had to bite his shoulder to avoid screaming when he pushed himself inside me, even stronger, for the last time, letting my name slip from his lips.

He held me in his arms and carried me to the bed, watching me as I felt the effects of the orgasm vanish from my body.

I stared at his hazel eyes, noticing he seemed to be trying to decide whether he would or not say what he was thinking. He bit his lower lip, undecided, looked at me for a really long time, and then seemed to give up.

"Greg?" He gave me a smile when I called him.

"Me?"

"What's the matter? I know there's something you want to say."

"You're beautiful." He whispered, and I turned my face away, blushing. "Sorry, Jen, I always get... romantic after it." He rolled his eyes when I looked at him again. "That's why I don't usually say things." I laughed, turning my body to him.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, a little apprehensive.

"A little. I think maybe an aspirin will help." He opened the drawer and took a pill. "The next time, you should push to the other side, genius."

"I didn't mean it! I only thought of it after I saw you on the floor!"

"Sometimes, I wonder what you use your brain for. Really." He looked at me, smiling. "But I wasn't exactly able to think either, so I think I can forgive you. Again?"

"Again.", I said, without hesitating. Feeling his weight on my body made me think that it would be a _long_ night. But amazing anyway.

.x.

The first thing I did when I woke up the next day was look for the alarm clock in the place where it used to be in my house. But I wasn't home, and his dark-brown furniture made that very clear.

The last time he'd let me in his bedroom had been 13 years before. In all that time, lots of things had changed - including the room itself -, and his room now looked more like a normal guy's than when he was younger: piles of paper and magazines (I felt a little shocked when I noticed that most of them were Science-related) were on the floor; some clothes, that he'd probably just brought from the dry cleaner's were on a chair; the closet's doors were completely covered by pictures of him and his friends and post-its with his appointments; his shoes were all over the floor, with our clothes and the wireless phone. But there wasn't, in any place, a clock in which I could check the hours.

He was lying with his back turned to me, still asleep. His hair was even messier than usual and his skin had some deep scratches. It meant I'd had a truly good night.

I got out of the bed, in order to get dressed and have breakfast while waiting for him to wake up. I put on my underwear and his button-up shirt, deciding it'd be easier for me simply to put a few buttons in their places than to find my clothes on the floor.

His bathroom was shockingly tidy, if compared to the bedroom. I fixed my make-up carefully, because I knew that there are few things that can make a guy not want a second night, like looking terrible on the day after. My purse was on the living room floor, with my cell phone in it. 8am. I wondered when exactly we fell asleep. I could remember the sunset was before the _first_, but how many we had after it? _Many_.

I opened the kitchen's cupboards, looking for food. The first thing I noticed was that his Playboys had disappeared. I wondered if they had joined the others or been thrown away.

I made some coffee, because I knew I'd end up falling asleep if I didn't, and took the cookie jar to the living room. I sat on the couch and turned the TV on to watch something while he slept.

"Good morning, Jen", Greg whispered, entering the room. "How was your night?"

"Awesome." I watched him as he got himself a mug of coffee. "And yours?"

"I'm exhausted. And I'm still not sure if my back will ever get back to normal. I need aspirin, but I'm truly happy about it."

"Do you work today?"

"That's exactly the reason why I need my back to stop aching." He looked excited about the idea of going back to work, despite the fact that our schedules would go back to the 'totally different' thing. "But it's only after ten. Do you have plans for today?"

"I have the game, but it's at three."

He sipped his coffee and stared at me, thinking. I was ready not to accept his idea when he finally asked, "Have you ever shot a gun?"

"Is this what you call 'romantic'?"

"Nope. It's what I call 'fun'. Will you come?" He looked at me with puppy eyes. I couldn't say no.

"Okay. I mean... I've never done this before. And I don't even know if I can get in a place like that."

"Relax, Jenny. It's not like it's the hardest thing ever. All you have to do is go to your house and put on some comfortable clothes. I'll take care of the rest. We meet here in one hour, then I'll take you to eat and we'll be home before the game. Deal?"

"Sounds great." I finished my coffee and closed the cookie jar. "I'll get dressed, then." I kissed his lips softly. "See you later."

"Bye, sweetheart."

.x.

"Look, you must focus on the target." He seemed to be truly playing the instructor role and was quite angry because of my inability of aiming. "You can't get that nervous. I am the cop, not you. You can miss the centre. But at least hit the sheet!" He put the earphones back on and told me to do the same. "I'll just fix your aim," he yelled, so I could hear him. After he was done, he stepped back. Shaking, I pulled the trigger. The bullet flew and hit exactly the centre of the shadow's head. I put the gun down and took the phones off. "I had aimed down... But it was quite good. At least you killed the guy." He opened a smile. "In a little time, you'll be able to be a psychopath."

"Is that good?"

"Actually, female killers are hot. Wanna trade with me? Mine is easier to shoot." He took his .38 Glock off the holster and offered it to me. I gave him the 9 mm. "It's a semi like the other." He recharged the 9 mm. "But I prefer mine. We'll talk in six shots, okay?"

We put the earphones back. All six shots hit the shadow, the last one exactly where – based on my terrible notions of anatomy – the heart probably was located. He returned to my booth and pressed a tiny button, making the targets approach us.

"There's nothing better than _one_ good shot." He joked. "Congratulations, sweetheart. I wasn't willing to tell you, but I guess you need to know that you were shooting in a professional distance. Want to continue?"

"It's cool. Can I?"

"If you like it... I always thought you would. I'll get more ammo for you."

When he came back, I was using the 9 mm. I noticed he was proud of me because I was trying. All he always wanted was someone to share a passion. Everything related to crime solving was a part of this shared obsession.

.x.

"You were great, you know?"

He hugged me, his pride shining even more in his eyes.

"Was I?"

"After you gave up impressing me, you were. You know, Jen, I swear that, if knowing how to shoot was a thing I'm looking for in a woman, I'd marry you right now. Because you're scarily good at it, when I'm not around." He paused for a second, before whispering, "And you are _awesome_ in bed. Too awesome, in fact, for someone so young."

"Young doesn't mean inexperienced."

"Good point. Let's eat?"

We got in the car. He turned the radio on. "I was the best shooter in the Academy," he told me, drumming the wheel in the same rhythm as the early-90's song we were listening to. "It compensated for my total lack of discipline.

"That means you almost failed?"

"Their concept of discipline is totally twisted. I couldn't do anything 'cause I wouldn't risk my whole future because of my ideas. There are no civilian CSIs. But, today the undisciplined guy works in the department that requires the most discipline and organization of all. And, if Grissom can be the supervisor, I can do anything."

We parked in a small restaurant a few blocks away from our home. The guy who took care of parking the car approached us and called Greg by his name.

"Take care of my car, Timothy," Greg said, as he locked the gun in the glove compartment. He gave the car key to the other man. "I don't want it too far today, okay?"

"Don't worry, Greg. It's in good hands."

We got in the restaurant and the waitress took us to a table near the window. She gave us the menus. "Something to drink, Greg?"

"Two Cokes", he answered. "That's it for now."

The waitress left us alone. "Do you always get this VIP treatment?"

"Go to the place a few times a month and give them good tips. If it doesn't work, the badge will. What will you eat?"

"A salad," I didn't hesitate before answering. "I can't really eat anything with more calories than that on a game day. Sorry."

"You won't get all freaked out because of _calories_ after yesterday, will you?"

"It's all a matter of metabolism." I opened a smile. "But you have the potential to be a _great_ diet."

"It's a compliment, isn't it?"

I nodded. The Cokes arrived, and the waitress took our orders; a salad for me and the most temptating steak with French fries for him. Nobody said the world must be fair.

.x.

"Oh my God, you should cheer for my team..." He looked at me, seeming quite pleased by my uniform - the same he'd criticized many times before. I laughed.

"Why do all the guys say that?" I threw the pompons at his face, just to watch it fall to the floor.

"Because you look totally hot wearing this uniform." He kissed me. "Where were you?"

"Celebrating. The team won the game. And, you know, most of us are gonna take a break at cherring and playing for now. _And_ the college results arrived. You're talking to the newest UNLV's freshman. I was also accepted to Brown, Harvard, Yale and another three Ivy Leaguers. And many others across the country. The guys want to kill me because I'm not going." I gave a wide smile. "And it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that I'm a cheerleader. I'm quitting for good."

"How did you get in all those colleges?"

"I never said my grades weren't good. All I said was that I didn't want to be remembered as the geek. But, besides Chemistry, I had the best grades. My teachers loved me, and so did the principal. _And_ I chose the right extracurricular activities and had awesome interviews. I learned from _your_ mistakes."

"Will you really give it all up to stay in Vegas?" I nodded. "Why?"

"Because UNLV has the right subjects with great teachers. Because I love Vegas. Because I don't wanna live by myself so soon. And because I can't picture myself living in _Providence, Rhode Island_."

"Which subject?"

"Serial killers and sexual predators. You know I've always been obsessed about it."

"Can you do it in the first semester?"

"I guess."

"Good luck. If you wanna join the Academy now, let me know. I can get you in."

"I'd rather wait for the end of school." I sighed. "You gotta work, don't you?" He nodded. "I must go home. I'm cold. I'll probably sleep until 2pm tomorrow, so... call me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay. Good night, Jenny."

"Have a good night, Greg." I got in the elevator, while he left the garage.

.x.

"You sure you weren't waiting on me to call you?"

"You're _so_ vain, Greg! I was watching a movie."

"It's a mess out here. Wanna go to the bedroom?"

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. I loved the way things just happened, in that crazy rhythm that belongs only to relationships which are in the beginning stages. And naturally, like I'd never experienced before.

And I felt exactly this way when, doing his best to avoid parting the kiss, he took me to his room and threw me on the bed.

"I couldn't work thinking of you. Thinking that you could have realized that I'm no longer a challenge. But I was wrong... and I've never been so glad about it."

.x.

I was still on the bed, under the dark green sheet, while he took a shower. The sound of the water made me wish I could join him, but I couldn't. It was getting pretty late.

"Look, you can stay after I leave, if you want. Just remember to lock the door, okay?" He came back to the room and threw the towel on the bed. "Yeah, I do have bad habits," he said, when he saw my disapproving face. He opened the closet, chose a pair of jeans and started getting dressed. "You can take the keys. I have a copy somwhere."

"You're already gonna give me a key? In a month I'll be living here."

"One thing at a time." He sat on the bed and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just thinking…"

"Thinking about…?"

"You're going back to work and I'll stay here and the next time I'll see you will be in like 16 hours and… and I never thought I'd watch you getting ready to work. At least, not from your bed."

"It feels different, doesn't it? I was thinking about it as well." He got up and went back to the bathroom, leaving the door opened. I could see him playing with his hair, using most of the things that he kept in front of the mirror. After a _long_ time, he came back to the bedroom and looked for the wireless phone. "Hungry?" I shook my head. "Sure?" I nodded.

He got up and told me he'd be back soon. While he was out, I left the bed, got dressed and arranged my hair in a loose ponytail. I kind of envied his being so patient. No one else would spend so much time in front of a mirror just to end up scuba diving in other people's trashcans.

"I'll have a busy week, sweetheart." He hung up and threw the telephone on the bed. "I have another trial the day after tomorrow, and I wouldn't have come back home today if it weren't for the fact that I wanted to see you."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "Call me, okay?"

"I will." He hugged me. "I love you being so understanding."

"I'm not understanding. I'm reasonable. I know I'm just a good way for you to spend your time." I couldn't avoid a certain pain in my voice. Greg was the guy who would introduce me a new girl every week, and I knew I wasn't much different to him.

"You're not just a good way to spend my time, Jenny. You can say you're my… lover, but never say that again."

"What's the difference?"

"It'll take me a lot more than a week to get tired of you." He sat me on his lap and I pushed him until he was lying on the bed. "You look so hot from this angle…" He kissed one of my arms. "What's wrong? You're blushing."

"It's called shyness."

"Yeah, right. If you're shy, then I'm the king of Norway."

The doorbell rang and we looked at each other.

"I'll answer. You gotta get ready to go to work."

"I must be the Chinese. The wallet is on the table."

Feeling awkwardly important, I answered the door and the delivery guy gave me what Greg called 'lunch': Chinese takeout at 6pm. I paid him and closed the door.

"You sure you don't wanna eat?" He sat on the living room's couch. "I'm starving. You're exhausting."

"Good to know." I smiled and sat next to him. "I think I can try and eat something. But I actually don't really like Chinese."

"With whom did you learn to eat it?" He gave me one of the boxes. It was pretty clear that he'd ordered for both of us, hoping he'd manage to make me eat something.

"Jay. He _loved_ it."

"Didn't you?"

"It's not my favourite food. I'd rather have steak and French fries. With lots of fat and salt. The kinda thing that doesn't exactly work well with a diet and that is _very_ dangerous to your health."

"Smoking is more dangerous." He gave me an ironical smile. "When I have time enough, I'll take you to dinner and both of us will have steak and French fries. Deal?"

"Deal."

.x.

"Where are we going, Greg?" I asked, a little fearful, after he spent almost half an hour driving in circles in dark and empty streets.

"Relax, Jen! I'm not gonna park in one of these alleys and…-" He paused, but I told him to go on. "And rape you and kill you." He blushed. "I'm sorry. I see it everyday and… it ends up changing our sense of humour."

"It's okay. I know you won't. But, if you truly want to kill me someday, do it in a sexy way, right?"

"Jennifer!" He yelled my name, censoring me. I laughed.

"Where are we going, Gregory?"

"Dinner at the Bellagio." He answered, with simplicity. It was almost like he was used to having dinner at fancy hotels. "I'm becoming important because of my book. I got a room for us. What do you think about that?"

"We're having dinner at the Bellagio at 6pm?"

"Dinner at _a room_ in the Bellagio. They're making your steak right now."

"Could it be more romantic?" I was a bit sarcastic, but, in all honesty, that was probably the most romantic thingy a guy had ever done for me.

"It could be in New York, with candles and the Statue of the Liberty and stuff… And, of course, it could be on a night we could actually spend together."

"Nothing is perfect, Sanders."

"I know." He smiled at me. "Look, I'll need to go to work, but they swore they'd pay for _everything_ that I and my girl want. So, you're free to do whatever you want, except the casino. You're a minor."

"You'll go to the hotel after work?" We finally got to Flamingo St. after he turned a corner.

"I know it sucks. But I really love what I do."

"I know that. I just… wanted to spend the night with you."

"I'll do my best to get here early. And, when I do…-" Another corner, and he drove a few more feet to the Strip. "-We'll do whatever you want. I promise." He parked at the hotel's entrance and turned the car off. "It's not my dream date, Jen." He said, apologetically. "Especially since it's our _first_ date. It's not what I'd usually do."

"Greg, for God's sake, shut up!" We got out of the car. "Look at this place! Nothing could be more perfect than it."

He gave the keys to one of the hotel's employees, who only waited for the bags to be taken out of the trunk before taking the car to the garage.

"You serious?"

"Of course I am! I've always wanted to spend a night here."

We walked to the front desk. A bleach-blonde woman opened a smile at us as we approached. "Good evening. Welcome to the Bellagio. How can I help you?"

"I have a reservation for tonight. A room for Greg Sanders." He threw his driver's license at the desk, in his typical _blasé _way.

"The girl's ID?" She asked. Greg and I looked at each other for a brief second, before I gave her my driver's license. The woman analised it with attention, seeming especially concerned about the huge difference between 1980 and 1990. When she gave us our documents and the room key, she looked at Greg, as if wondering if he didn't feel ashamed for that. I felt tempted to say 'not at all'. "Room 1402. Anything else?"

"We'll need another key. The dinner must be delivered in exactly one hour, at the room. She-" he pointed at me "-must be treated as well as I am. And everything she asks must go to my bill, that, as your boss and I agreed, is confidential and must be destroyed as soon as I check out." He paused, to make sure she didn't have any doubts. "Or I swear I'll make your life a hell." He opened his suit, to show her his badge. "Do we have a deal, angel?" A flirty smile appeared on his lips. She nodded, shyly, and gave us the other key.

"Enjoy you stay at the Bellagio", she said. Greg and I walked towards the elevators.

"Isn't that some kind of abuse of autority?" I asked when we were far enough not to be heard.

"Maybe, but it always works. And she'd never dare to complain about it." The elevator's doors opened and we were joined by two brunettes weaing the smallest skirts I'd ever seen. He couldn't help looking greedifully at them.

"Greg! We're on a date!"

The elevator stopped at their floor and they left it, laughing.

"You look beautiful jealous."

I didn't answer. The elevator stopped again, now at the 14th floor. I followed him to the door of room 1402. He opened the door and we got in the _foyeur_, my heels making a strange sound on the marble floor. Greg told me to see the room while he waited for the luggage. I didn't hesitate before obeying.

I was amazed by the two huge beds that stood side by side, both of them covered by a thick ivory blanket, faded-pink sheets and golden cushions. But it was only until I saw the lights of the Strip through the window - then, the whole world seemed to have disappeared. Automatically, I threw my purse on one of the beds and walked to it, staring astonished at the lights and the cars and the people.

I heard Greg thank someone, and then close the door. He put the bags on the bed and came to where I was.

"It's beautiful, ain't it?"

"It's fantastic." I couldn't manage to stop looking outside. "How come people want to leave somewhere so wonderful?"

"It may sound a little weird, but few people like living in Vegas. Especially minors."

I took a step back, letting him wrap his arms around my waist and laying my head against his shoulder. I wanted to enjoy the little bit of time we had together.

"I was gonna spend my prom night here." I whispered. He took me to the empty bed.

"With Jay?" I nodded, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He sat down next to me, looking at my face. "What really happened, Jen? It's not possible you got so bored that you gave up on something you were really enjoying."

"I don't wanna talk about it." I bit my lower lip. Remembering the hurt Jay caused, a lot. Because, even though I had never been truly in love with James, at least I hadn't cheated on him. "It had nothing to do with you, though."

"I guess not. You wouldn't be so silly."

"Not at all." I sat on the bed. "How long until dinner?"

"Half an hour."

I kissed him, carefully. It was impossible not to wonder if it was right - or if I was gonna get hurt in the end. But, when we were together everything felt perfect, and I couldn't help doing everything I wanted to. He parted the kiss, reluctantly, and looked at me, his eyes saying very clearly that if we didn't have time to do it _right_, we could'nt do it at all.

"Look… at the end of the month I'll have a party at one of my friend's house. If you haven't gotten tired of me yet, I'd like you to come."

"Why?"

"I want you to be there. With me. You took me to the lab to show me off. I just wanna do the same."

"I'll think about it, okay?" The mirror on the other wall reflected the disappointment in my face. "Jen, I work at night. Getting a day off is not as simple as skipping a cheerleader practice. I'd love to go, but I don't know if Grissom will let me go."

"Okay." I forced myself to show a smile. It might sound a little silly, but I could never get mad at someone who took me to a night at the Bellagio. "Greg, what happens if you're assigned to a case here today?"

"I'd tell Grissom I'm here as a manager's guest, he'd trade me with someone and I'd end up scuba diving in trash cans. You could say that my job is the most romantic of all." His face contorted in a moch worry expression. He got the telephone and dialled the front desk number. "Good evening, Rose", he said, using his Don Juan voice, using all of his self-control to avoid laughing. "This is CSI Sanders. Could you inform me if someone died here today?" He put the call in the speaker, so that I could hear her saying 'no, sir'. "Thank you, Rose."

Greg hung up and started laughing uncontrollably, until he started crying and his face got dangerously blushed. He forced himself to breath deeply and stopped laughing after a few minutes.

"I always wanted to do it", he panted.

"If the police knock on this door looking for a psychopath, I swear I'll kill you."

"Do it in a sexy way, please." He got off the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Get my hair ready for work." He wore a huge smile, showing me a latex glove he'd just taken off the bag. "Is there a problem with that?"

"What are you gonna do?"

Without an answer, he put the glove on his head, which made him look a little more weird than usual - and I'd already seen things such as the 'chess board' hair he'd used a few years before that. He took it off and threw the glove in the trashbin.

"Perfect." He fixed some of the locks and looked at me. "You look scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you. Couldn't you do it with a comb?" The doorbel rang and we left the bathroom.

"It doesn't look the same." He opened the door. One of the hotel employees came in the room, carrying a cart with our dinner. "You can put it on the table, please." The guy obeyed. Greg gave him the tip. "I'll take care of it. Thanks."

He closed the door and I followed him to the table. We sat and he gave me one of the porcelain plates. "Want me to do it for you?" I shook my head and he opened the fridge to get us two bottles of Coke.

"I'd have a wine now, but it's a little awkward seeing you staring at my glass. And, of course, I can't drink before going to work."

"It makes no sense." I analised my French fries, wondering how much time had passed since the last time I ate something like that. Maybe it was before James and I started dating. He was so into the whole 'I have a girlfriend that could be a model' thing that he'd never allow me to eat French fries.

"What makes no sense?"

"I'm old enough to have sex with _you_ but I'm not old enough to drink. I mean… I can drive, vote, sleep with whomever I choose, live across the country, have a bank account, get in a hotel by myself… but I can't drink?"

"It's not a law if it makes sense. And, unfortunately, I don't make the laws."

"Is the food good enough for you?"

"It couldn't be better. Thank you for bringing me here, Greg. I truly don't deserve all of this."

"Oh, no you don't. Come on, Jen, we're sleeping together. It must mean something."

"Yeah, it does. It means I'm not delicate."

"You have no idea how grateful I am for it."

"I do. I can see it in your eyes."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only at the right times." I smiled at him. "You must admit, after 18 years, reading you is rather easy." He rolled his eyes. "Easy enough for me to know there's something bugging you. What is it?"

"I gotta work today and I'll have to leave you all alone here. And, while I'm working my ass off to close yesterday's case, lots of guys will be taking care of you. I mean, you surely deserve it, but…-"

"You're jealous anyway."

"I'm not jealous. I just don't want it to end now."

"It won't. I promise."

He smiled. We didn't have anything serious, but what we had was good. Neither of us wanted to let it go.

.x.

Jen?" He whispered my name, entering the room. "Are you awake?" I said yes and turned the TV off. "Can you help me here?" Reluctantly, I got up and went to the foyeur, where he was standing, waiting for me, with another hotel employee. "What is this?"

"Desert. Can you take the glasses, please?" He showed me the two red wine glasses and grabbed the bottle. "I wanna sleep as quickly as possible."

"Tired, Greggo?"

"Very." We put the things on the table, and the hotel guy put the food near it. "Petit gâteau?"

I looked greedifully at the cupcakes, the ice cream and the chocolate syrup. Oh, I wanted. I definitely did. We sat at the table and heard the door being closed. He opened the wine bottle and filled the two glasses.

"You were right, you know? You should be able to do whatever you want."

I sipped at my wine, before eating a spoon full of vanilla ice cream. "You're like the perfect rich guy, Greg… there are few guys that would simply buy a bottle of wine at a hotel."

"I don't have anywhere to spend my money. I give myself those little pleasures sometimes."

"How was work today?"

"Nick and I closed a case and started a very interesting one. It was chaos, but Grissom set me free when I asked to come and see you."

"He did?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

"When was the last time I could believe you when you said you'd leave the lab early?"

"When was the last time I left you waiting for me at the Bellagio?"

We finished eating, before he closed the bottle and carried me to the bed.

"Sleep tight, Jenny," he whispered, hugging me.

"You too, darling."

.x.

We woke up at eleven o' clock, both of us seeming quite annoyed by the weird schedules and even worse rules. He got off the bed and chose a new shirt from the bag. While he was locked in the bathroom, I changed my clothes in the bedroom. I put my shoes on and sat on one of the chairs to brush my hair while I waited for him.

"Good morning, Miss Sunshine," he laughed at my visibly grumpy mood, which was a classic of the first hours after waking up. "How was your night?"

"Fine," I mumbled, before entering the bathroom to finish getting ready to go. I heard the glasses tinkling, and assumed the rest of the wine would be our breakfast. Or, at least, a large part of it. I came back to the bedroom, where he waited for me with both glasses in hand. He gave me one of them and sipped at his. He threw the clothes in the suitcase and closed it, before sitting on the bed. I followed him.

"Are you still tired?" I asked, shyly. I wasn't exactly good at being a sweet girl when I still needed another three hours sleeping.

"I don't need to sleep. Why?"

"I'll sleep all the way home. I'm exhausted."

"I can give you many reasons to stay awake." He drank the rest of the wine and refilled the glass. "But it's up to you."

"I'm sorry, but I'll pass," I smiled. We finished the bottle, grabbed the bags and left the hotel.

"What did you do last night?" He asked, as soon as we got to the Strip.

"Many things, but only the masseur was a man, I swear," I looked at him, appreciating the effect of the information. "A fantastic man, with the best hands I've ever seen."

"You love older men, don't you?"

"They're _way_ better than the guys my age."

He bit his lip, seeming worried. I looked out at the window, to see the casinos and hotels. Many of the lights were off. Vegas wasn't as beautiful in the morning as it was in the nights.

"And today? Plans?"

"I need to enroll at UNLV."

"When are you going to do the Academy?"

"Right after I finish college. I don't think I'll get another degree."

"You're really willing to work in the lab, aren't you?"

"Yeah. But I know I gotta graduate first."

"Take it slow, my baby."

"I hate it when you call me your baby."

"Ten years from now, you'll look at yourself at the mirror and think you _are_ a baby. Maturity comes after 15 years in the Crime Lab. I'm nine years away."

"You're a child."

"Yeah. A cute and funny toddler."

"Do you work today?"

"Sure! I don't think I'll go on vacation anytime soon. Staying at home makes me feel… useless. Why?"

"Then, I think I'll go out today."

"I can't tell you not to, because I know you only do what you want to. But I can ask you to be reasonable, can't I? I don't wanna take you off the jail 'cause you got caught drinking."

"I won't get caught, _daddy_. And I promise I'll remember to use a condom if I have sex with someone, even though I take the pill. Any more advice?"

"I'd love to know you won't smoke an entire pack tonight." I laughed.

"I'll try ad remember that before asking someone to give me a cigarette." His look censored me, but he didn't say a word. He knew better than to argue with me.

We got home and he said he need to go to the grocery store, so I'd need to go upstairs alone. I left the car and closed the door, before hearing the window being opened. "Just remember me, okay?" He asked, before closing the window and leaving. I only watched the Toyota disappear, wondering if it would be possible to forget him.


End file.
